


girl's night in

by alstroemerida



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Mild Voyeurism (?), Spanking, Underage Drinking, Vaginal Fingering, lmao why did i write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alstroemerida/pseuds/alstroemerida
Summary: velma and daphne have a night together. it's gay. what more do you need?(this was originally posted onto fanfiction.net in august 2017)





	girl's night in

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry
> 
> but besides that. some of yall velmdaph shippers are too FUCKIN cowardly to write porn so i decided to take matters into my own hands, which is why this monstrosity exists

Daphne loaded the last of her numerous luggage into Velma’s room.

“Hey, thanks again for letting me stay over! I have no idea what I would’ve done without you!” Daphne said warmly, wiping her completely dry forehead daintily with a magenta handkerchief.

“Yeah?” said Velma raspily, out of breath from dragging at least seven 15 lb. bags up three floors. “It’s no problem, really. I wouldn’t’ve wanted you to be forced to stay at some motel while your house is being renovated.”

Daphne, in her rich girl glory, went to a private school somewhere in New York for the majority of the year, and got dropped into her hometown every June to stay for the summer. Her parents, being busy and neglectful and off doing who-knows-what forgot to tell her that they had spent even more dollars that came from hard-working poor people to redo their whole seven-room, four-and-a-half-bathroom double-lawned McMansion. Velma, saint that she was, had no choice but to take in her only friend.

Daphne smiled that dazzling perfectly-white-toothed smile of hers and flopped onto Velma’s bed.

“God, this is gonna be so much fun!” She squealed, sitting upright. “Us girls never get to be alone, y’know? Surrounded by musky and desperate teen boys, with their food and varsity teams 

“You’re right, Daph, I think I’m much too used to the scent of testosterone. I mean, the other day I didn’t even recognize women’s perfume!” Velma said dryly.

Daphne burst out laughing, an even, flowery sound that made Velma’s heart flutter.

“You’re just too much, Velms! I think I’m gonna go shower, this heat is sticking to me like glue! Where’s your shower?”

“First door on the right,” Velma said as Daphne stood up, hair and ass bouncing as she did so.

Daphne sashayed or shimmied or whatever you called what she was doing with those hips of hers as she walked through the doorway. Velma’s glasses slid down her nose a little more, and her throat was drier than before. Must be the heat.  
Velma shook her head, making her thick hair flop around. As soon as she heard the shower running, she began to walk rigidly over to her tiny, tiny kitchen with decor choices that she knew would make Daphne raise her perfectly done eyebrows later on and pulled a glass to get some lovely, unrefined tap water to quench her thirst. She leaned against the wall, sighing from the calming cool of the tile pressing on her overheated skin, and almost dropped her glass from what she saw.

Daphne had left the door of the bathroom ever so slightly open. Slightly. But this tiny view was amplified by that clear, glass, stand-up shower that Velma fucking hated because she thought that everyone could see her inadequate naked body, and there Daphne was. Of course, Velma couldn’t see much, now that her glasses had slipped so far down her nose and the door was only cracked ⅛ of the way. She caught glimpses, though.

Red hair cascading down a freckled, shapely back. Perky breasts with sweet pink areolas that surprised Velma (she knew they existed, but she was too used to the beauty-marked brown nipped five-pound weights on her chest). An asscheek, a sleek thigh, a flat stomach--it was all too much for Velma.

She downed her tap water with shaky hands and positioned herself at the most perfect viewpoint for this peep show, not that any of it was anything but perfect. Daphne rubbed soap over breasts, they jiggled, pliant under thin manicured hands, and Velma watched as the fantastic water pressure peppered them. Daphne continued, rubbing marvelously at her body in the steam and haze of the water. Velma’s heart was pounding, her brain was numb, her throat was drier than ever, and her pussy was so, so wet.

Just in time, though, Velma noticed Daphne wringing her beautiful hair and reaching for the shower handle, and skidded back to her room, firmly sitting on the bed and crossing her legs, trying to be casual as well as override the ever-increasing moisture between them.

Daphne entered the room, wrapped in a plush purple monogrammed towel, smelling of honey and violets and something else too wonderful to name. Even with no makeup and hair stringy and half of its usual volume, she made Velma’s heart race. 

“I’m back!” She said brightly. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much, Velms!”

She then promptly dropped her towel and began to dress. Velma felt her soul ascend into the Heavens.

Daphne pulled that gorgeous lavender lingerie that made Velma simultaneously green with envy because of how cute it was and scarlet with lust and those fucking teenage hormones that were the bane of her existence. Finished changing, Daphne flopped back onto the bed, right next to Velma, oblivious to the mini lesbian panic attack she was having.

“You gonna shower? It’s so hot, you really should.” Daphne asked languidly.

“No,” Velma said weakly. “I’m more of a morning-showerer, honestly.”

Daphne shrugged. 

“Alright then! Now that that’s settled, we’ve got to get this show on the road! What do we do first?”

Velma stopped to think for a bit. She had forgotten this was a sleep-over thing and not an excerpt from a porn mag. 

“I don’t know, maybe truth or dare? You know I never really hang out with other people, Daph. I don’t know these sort of things.”

“Well, truth or dare is a lot better than gossiping about boys or playing strip poker or something.”

“Strip poker, at a Catholic private school?” Velma questioned, knitting her thick eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t believe what happens there, Velms. I’ve been scarred for life.” Daphne answered, looking uncharacteristically serious as Velma chuckled.

They settled on the queen-sized bed. Velma sitting cross-legged, Daphne with her legs draped over each other. Just as Velma was going to ask “truth or dare?”, Daphne stopped her short.

“Oh, God, I almost forgot!” She slid down gracefully from the bed and began rummaging through her luggage. “The liquor!” She said triumphantly, holding the bottle of vodka aloft.

Velma broke out into a nervous sweat. She knew Daphne was the life of the party, with her extrovertedness and all that, but she didn’t expect this. She’d only been drunk once before, and she didn’t even remember most of it. Alcohol and her did not mix well. 

“Are you sure, Daphne? Really sure? I mean, it isn’t exactly wise. We’re both under legal age, both to drink and to be adults.” Velma said nervously, more out of worry for both her and Daphne’s personal safety than her love for rules.

Daphne seemed to consider this thoughtfully. 

“Are your parents coming home anytime soon, Velma?” She said, lowering the vodka.

“Well, no-” Velma began.

“Then let’s have some fun!” Daphne sprung up, gathering the beginnings of the party-girl mentality she was known for and jumped back up onto the bed.

“Alright, so, if you chicken out, which I know your stickler-ass will, Velms, and chose truth, you’ve got to drink. And if you chose dare and fail, you have to drink too. It’s a lose-lose situation. Either way, we’re ending up shitfaced.” Daphne said, beaming while unscrewing the bottle.

Velma sighed and accepted her fate. She was gonna pull some gay shit while drunk, like touching Daphne’s titty or whatever and ruin their friendship and in turn fuck up the whole order and flow of Mystery Inc. and everyone’ll hate her. She didn’t have the will to argue.

“Since I’m merciful, I’ll let you go first. Hit me with your worst!” Daphne said, smirking.

“Jeez, you’re so kind, Daph,” Velma said sarcastically as she racked her brains for a question that wasn’t lame or too obvious.

“What’s going on with you and Fred?” She said suddenly. “He’s obviously into you, and you respond to him, but you went to me instead of him when you had nowhere to stay.”

“I’m just giving a dog a bone, Velms. To be honest, I like the attention.” Daphne said lazily.

Velma hmmed and nodded, trying to disguise the tiny glimmer of excitement making itself known in her stomach at this new information.

Five rounds later, and saying that they were drunk would be an understatement. At least in Velma’s case. Daphne, though a stick of Barbie-like proportions, actually held her liquor pretty well.

Velma’s glasses had slipped off her face completely, leaving her with big, dark brown eyes that wouldn’t stop squinting. The straps of her tank top had fallen, and sometime along the length of the game, she took off her bra. Heavy, teardrop-shaped breasts with brown areolas the size of a fist showed through, illuminated by the soft yellow light of Velma’s bedside lamp. She and Daphne leaned upon the fine oak of the headboard, the half empty bottle of alcohol cradled between them. 

“I’m just saying, Velmmms, doesn’t having your tits out feel good? Come join the free-titty-committee!” Daphne slurred, joyous and tipsy. Velma snorted.

“PSSSSHH, das easy fer you tah say, B-cup! You think dese mongo honkerss can jus’ walk aroun’, in public, without some guy sayin’ shit? S’think again!” Velma slurred back. The girls erupted into a fit of giggles. 

“Oh! Oh! I got uh goood one for you Daphne! Truf or dare?” Velma exclaimed.

Daphne pretended to think about it, stroking her chin for good measure. Velma giggled once more, finding the sight hilarious. 

“Truth!”

“Whaddareyer kinks, Daph?” Velma said pointedly, and laughed, sure she stumped Daphne with this one.

“My kinks?” Daphne said curiously, sobered by the suddenness of the question.

“Well-oh god, it’s sooooo embarrassing, Velms! Don’t tell anyone else!” Daphne said, turning to face Velma.

Velma, though she was blind as a bat without her glasses, tried to look Daphne in the eye and nod. If Daphne was saying it was embarrassing, it must be blackmail-worthy material.

Daphne came closer. 

“You now how I’ve been going to Catholic school my whole life, right?”

“Duh, of course!”

She inched a bit closer.  
“And you know how they give corporal punishments there, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

She was at Velma’s ear.

“I found out I sort of, y’know, like it…” She finished meekly, voice barely above a whisper.

Velma has a sudden image of Daphne bent over, face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain wih her asscheeks reddening with each lesion.

“O-Oh.” The blood in Velma’s tiny body was in competition to see where it could pool the most: her loins or her face.

Daphne squeaked and buried her face in her hands. Suddenly, Velma was very aware of the pink buds visible behind the lace of the lingerie, the strands of red lying upon that slender pale neck, and most importantly, the trail of freckles leading down to Daphne’s soft, plump ass.

“Don’ worry, that’s not the wors’ kink someone could have.” Velma said, speech getting neater as a means of comforting Daphne.

“Really? No one else has it! How do you explain that, Velma?” Daphne half-slurred behind her hands. Apparently, liquor made her irrational. 

“Well, um, I-I have it.” Velma stated quietly.

Daphne brought her head out of her hands with speed comparable to light. She looked at back at the brunette fiercely, with a sudden look in her eye.

“You wanna spank me, then?”

Velma felt her pussy throb harder than it had ever had in her life. Her heart slammed into some sort of hyperdrive, accelerating at thousands of beats per minute. She started sweating ferociously, and felt that she most certainly was going to throw up. 

“S-sure.” 

Her body moved of its own accord, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Daphne climbed over the bed, and draped her graceful long body over Velma’s own very short lap. In perfect position. Almost like she’d done this before.

Daphne lay limp, chin in hands, waiting for Velma to do something. The most patient Velma had ever seen her.

Velma lowered Daphne’s silk panties with trembling hands. The skin on Daphne’s bottom was smooth, supple, and freckled. Velma tentatively squeezed, and Daphne gasped breathily. She began to grope roughly, grabbing as much muscle and fat she could in her hands. Daphne writhed on her lap, stifling a whimper.

“God, Velma, just get on with it!” She whined. 

Velma let go of a sizeable chunk.

“If you say so, Daphne.”

A slap echoed throughout the room. Daphne was too surprised to make a sound. Another, harder this time, 

Daphne gripped the bedspread. 

“S-shit.”

“Count them,” Velma mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, uh, count them,” 

“O-oh.” Oh. Daphne was fucked.

 

By the fifth spank, Daphne’s legs were shaking, and her ass was a pleasing shade of crimson. Velma brought her hand down once more, 

“Oh God! S-six!”

The color of Daphne’s face was currently comparable to her own mildly abused asscheeks, her eyes were screwed up tight, and her lips were bleeding from how hard she had bitten them.

“Seven!” She moaned, manicured nails digging into Velma’s ample thigh.

 

Something had come over Velma. Her brown eyes were glazed over, and her forehead was glistening with sweat. Her grip on Daphne’s slim waist was iron-like; bruising, even.  
She had never felt so...insatiable before. She’d never yearned so fiercely. 

Each cry and warble and moan drove her need, and now it was at an unappeasable level. After the eighth slap, the brunette stopped her merciless spanking. Her fingers ghosted over the sensitive red skin of Daphne’s behind, feeling something at the shiver that went through Daphne’s body. She planted her hands lightly, rubbing slow circles that were torturous to the irritated skin, making Daphne squirm. Velma’s hand dipped lower, unhurriedly stroking Daphne’s smooth-shaven pink pussy, and plunged her fingers into its slick wetness.

Daphne’s manicured claws drew blood.

“Oh, fuck,”

Velma kept rubbing, her fingers teasing Daphne’s swollen clit and cunt.

“God, Daph, you’re just so wet,” Velma whispered, in awe. “Dripping. Soaking. Sopping.”

She rubbed harder with each word. Daphne was mewling and twitching on her lap.

“All from a little spanking, is that really all you needed, Daphne? Just a hand on your ass to soak those pretty panties?” Velma’s words were barely audible, yet Daphne throbbed at them.

“God, please don’t stop! Fuck me with your fingers!” 

Her outburst struck Velma with a wave of lust equivalent to a sixteen-wheeler. Velma pulled back for a bit, ignoring Daphne’s whimper of discontent, and stuck a chubby finger deep inside the quivering hole. The delighted little mewl it brought out was enough to get Velma’s finger pumping at a steady pace, rubbing Daphne’s clit with her thumb simultaneously. 

Daphne buried her burning face in her hands as little waves of pleasure made their way throughout her body. Was this the best fingerfucking to have happened? Maybe not, but Daphne’s virgin-ass did not care right now. Velma had just added another two fingers, stretching her out and making her feel almost painfully full. The pain of her sore ass added to the pleasure, and she was whining at the effect of it all. 

Three fingers were pumping in and out furiously of Daphne’s pussy, unhampered by the tightness that was quickly being worked apart. Velma’s hand was getting tired, but the jerky tensing of Daphne’s stomach muscles told her salvation was near. Not that she wasn’t already in Heaven, but it would be more than embarrassing if she caught a cramp while sexing a cute girl.

With a lovely shout, Daphne came, clamping so tightly around Velma’s fingers that circulation might have been cut off. Daphne released an unsteady breath, and laid limply upon Velma’s plush lap, body reduced to putty after her orgasm. Velma slipped her fingers out, no longer entrapped by wet walls. With much effort, Daphne dragged herself off, lying at Velma’s side.

Velma wiped her sweaty bangs off of her forehead. She couldn’t see. 

“That was something,” Velma choked out, with the dryest throat imaginable.

Daphne turned over and captured her thick, chapped lips in her own pink ones, and Velma feels the heat rush to her face as she melts into the kiss, surprised and flustered. But then, this sort of thing is tame after fingering the girl of your (wet) dreams. 

Daphne’s hands wrap themselves around her, burning hot and smooth. That pink mouth (which Velma has now learned to be stupidly dexterous) makes its loving descent on her neck, leaving all sort of sweet, grape-colored bruises. Fuck, how’s she gonna cover those up later? But the Daphne’s skilled manicured fingers are rubbing Velma’s already soaked panties.

She didn’t last long--not with how pent up she already was. Soon, she was moaning and gasping, ignoring the lock of thick red hair that had fund its way to her mouth, her hips thrusting up as Daphne wrings a mind-numbing orgasm out of her, groaning loud enough that anyone within a fifty-mile radius could hear. Daphne pulled a damp hand from between her legs, giving it self-satisfied kitten lick before pressing one more kiss to Velma’s lips.

The girls laid there; Velma sweatier than ever, tits and pudgy stomach in plain sight from beneath a ridden up shirt, Daphne glowing and smiling coyly. Round two was not far from their minds.


End file.
